Kestrel came by the store yesterday, reminding me that I hadn't seen nor spoken to him since... since I haven't made an effort to see much of anyone. It's only been a few days since being out in the field, but they feel long and unending. And even though I've put up a fight about it, watching the store isn't at all the chore it used to be. It's quiet, comfortable, safe... very different than the world I found.
There's so much I wish I could tell him. But the words are harder to find than I thought. He knows about the Supernatural, sure... He's known about all of this long before I ever believed him.
It's nearing six months in this trend of "I'm not going to put labels on this" thing I have with him. Saying he hasn't tried, wouldn't be true... saying I haven't avoided the conversation the moment it comes up, would be lie as well.
Commitment has far too many letters to be a "four-letter-word" but it has that taboo to it in my personal history. I'm not opposed to the idea, but the practice is something that has always become my personal poison of choice. I'm too "loyal"... too "honest"... too "committed"... I have never cheated, hardly lied, and always find a way to defend the worst of the guys that wander into my realm. It's the one blind spot I have when it comes to judging a man.
Maybe I did fall in 'L-word' too quickly with some of the worst choices; it's not like I ever said it aloud. Hell, that's one of greatest differences between my ancestor and myself. Jacob never missed a chance to swoon a lady with the poetic language of a true love's confession... no matter if her husband lingered in the next room or not. Given the flashes of what I've seen, the dreams of his making, perhaps I would have fallen under his spell as well. His game was just potent enough to be super-effective today.
Kestrel seems to adapt a different tactic altogether. Taking a soft hand when I need it, a firm hand when I wish it. Being around him is distracting enough to melt away that red-glazed image from my mind's eye. And yes, maybe I am indulging a bit more into baser needs than normal, but it's such a wanted distraction.
Heike has been out, working with the team on something... looking into the research of another thing... I know well enough that hassling her into telling me something she doesn't want to won't work. As long as she's safe, I don't mind.
So I close the store early, I get more groceries than I can carry... and there's Kestrel. Waiting outside, offering to help me take them upstairs. Offering to take me out to dinner. Offering to hear everything that occurred since I last saw him. Wanting to hear everything about Ultor, and the others.
I'm vague enough. I know full well the paperwork I signed. The secret that I'm a part of. But there's so few people I can talk to. So few people that understand. How could I even begin to talk with the team? With Heike? I don't need them thinking I'm a weak link in this. So I'll bury it. Bury it deep in these half-coherent confessions and sinful indulgences and let the sweet toxic cocktail of denial, bourbon and completely NSFW behavior lend me the strength to keep this tough exterior strong.
I'll shake this soon enough, and return to the person I need to be for this position.
A keeper of Wilhelm. A finder of monsters. A completely self-destructive tornado of charm and wit with an immensely deadly capacity. It's all very 'Ender's Game'. By understanding my enemy, I also love them. I become a hybrid of the evil in the world, and the good I stand to protect it from. But is that really what Ultor wants? It seems of such little importance compared to what the others have revealed of themselves. A part of me believes that they were looking for our bloodline, sure; but they couldn't be certain which of us would be which. That perhaps, I was brought into this because they couldn't take the chance of losing Wilhelm Grimm. Of losing Heike.
Or maybe... I'm just over-thinking all of this. Maybe I'll be more useful as time goes on. Who knows.
-Yvonne "Late Bloomer" Schmitt
